Better With You Here (9781609417819) Read online

  Angelica’s a pretty girl. But I think Alex likes her because she’s quiet, like him, and tomboyish enough to share some of his interests. Plus, they have things in common. I wonder if they’ve talked about their parents, about the fact that their dads don’t live with them. No, I’m sure they only talk about school and Alex’s comics. He’s been trying to make her read his whole collection. Either she’s being a good sport about it or she actually likes reading them. Good for her if she does. I can’t get past the costumes and the cheesy dialogue.

  Lucia wants ponytails with ribbons, like Tiffany always wears, so I’m trying to improvise something along those lines, when our doorbell rings.

  I check the peephole and see a short, rotund woman in a khaki shirt and brown trousers. I open the door.

  “Natasha Davila?” she says.

  “Yes?”

  “This is for you.” She’s smiling as she hands me an envelope. “Have a good night.” And then she’s gone.

  I have a bad feeling about this. It’s almost like…

  “What is it, Mom?”

  I close the door and open the envelope. Pull out a sheaf of paper, hoping it’s not…

  I see the double column of text at the top, with the family-court number stamped in the corner. Our case number handwritten on the line. Damn it. Goddamn it.

  “Hold on, baby,” I say to Alex. “I’ll be right back. You guys keep getting ready.”

  The most private place in the apartment—my only sanctuary—is my bathroom. I go there now and close the door. Open the envelope, pull out the ticking time bomb inside, and skim its words.

  Service of Suit. November.

  Custody. Alexander Davila and Lucia Davila.

  Alleges…Alleges what? Neglect. Abuse.

  What the hell?

  There’s a whole section attached—not any type of court document I’ve seen before. It looks like something someone typed on a home computer. It’s filled with sentences about…me.

  The Defendant, Natasha Davila, is neglectful toward her son Alex, not helping him achieve academic success. She fails to help Alex with his homework, despite his teacher’s advice that he needs extra tutouring in spelling.

  The word “tutoring” is spelled wrong in that particular way, and that tells me who wrote this: Mike.

  The Defendant has failed to adaquately prepare Alex for school. He had an accident (bathroom), and the defendant had not supplied the school with a spare outfit, as required in the Parent Handbook issued at the beginning of the year.

  The Defendant does not provide Alex and Lucia with adaquate nutrition.

  The Defendant verbally abuses Alex and Lucia, frequently yelling and using profanity in their presence.

  Lucia needs new tennis shoes, but the Defendant refuses to purchase them.

  For these reasons, the Plaintiff prays that the Court will turnover custody of Alex and Lucia to their father immediately, for the sake of their mental, financial, and academic well-being.

  I cannot believe this. He’s got to be kidding me. Can he even do this—type a long, misspelled list of false accusations and append them to a court document? You’d think I would know, now that I work for lawyers. But they’re not that kind of lawyers. Apparently Mike can do whatever he wants in the family-court system of Dallas. This proves it.

  “Mom? When are we going to Miss Buena’s?”

  “Just one second, baby.” I have to stay calm. Don’t get upset. But it’s too late for that. Then at least I shouldn’t let the kids see how upset I am. Walk out of the bathroom, put the envelope on top of the dresser, and act like nothing’s going on.

  I can’t believe he’s doing this. He’s out of control. Trying to get revenge. Pathologically lying. I can’t believe he can make up lies like this and tell them to the court.

  Could he literally be mentally ill? Maybe. That would explain so much…

  Or maybe it’s about child support. He wants to marry what’s-her-name, so he’s trying to get custody of the kids to keep from having to pay me. To make it so I have to pay him instead.

  God. What am I going to do about this?

  Call my lawyer, of course. Except…I still owe her twenty-five hundred dollars from the divorce. Joanne isn’t going to take on a new development in our case unless I pay off that balance first. And she’ll probably want another twenty-five-hundred-dollar retainer on top of that, like last time.

  What am I going to do? I don’t have enough money for that. I could put it on my credit card, but…No, I can’t. I don’t have enough there either. Not after the last round of repairs on the Blazer.

  Why in the world is he doing this?

  “Mom! Can you please hurry? Tiffany’s gonna show me her new princess doll!”

  “I’m coming, baby.” God, I’m sweating through my shirt. I should change. No, I should cancel. I can’t see anyone right now.

  “Mom!”

  I have to go out and act normal. “Hey. Here I am. Calm down, sweetie.” Go to the dresser and lay the envelope facedown. Just like that. “Let me change my shirt real quick, and then we’ll go.”

  “Hurry, Mom! I’m hungry!”

  Keep moving. “I know you are, baby. Here we go. I’m ready now.” Move forward.

  “Alex, Mom’s ready! We’re going now!”

  We’re sitting in Geronima’s living room, eating dinner. The kids have already been fed and are playing in Tiffany’s room. I’ve just spilled my guts to everyone. I didn’t mean to—it just happened.

  Geronima’s horrified. “He did what?” she says. “He said you were neglecting them? To the judge?”

  I say, “He sent someone—a process server, I think they’re called—with a lawsuit. So he can try to get custody of the kids. The lawsuit has the list of allegations—of the things he says I’m doing to them.”

  “This happened today?” says Haley. Her brow is knotted in confusion.

  “Just now. Right before we came upstairs,” I say. I started it as a joke: “Sorry we got here so late, you guys, but I just found out my ex-husband is suing me.” I didn’t expect them to laugh. But I also didn’t plan to ruin everyone’s dinner, the way I’m doing right now.

  Geronima walks over to me and bends down. She’s…hugging me. With one arm, around my shoulders. I feel her cheek against the top of my head.

  “M’ija. I’m so sorry,” she says. She takes one of the tortillas from her plate and adds it to mine. As if to fortify me for the battle I’ll have to fight. I’d laugh at her instinctive gesture, so characteristic, if I weren’t struggling to keep tears from spilling down my face.

  Sara says, “What the hell is wrong with him? What the fuck’s his problem?” Then she catches herself, looks over at Oscar and says, “Sorry.”

  He shakes his head but doesn’t say anything. Oscar’s a man of few words, but I take his expression to mean that Sara’s cursing is warranted in this situation. He mumbles something I don’t hear, then adds, “Not how a man should act.”

  “Where does he live?” says Sara. “We should go over there and kick his ass.”

  Haley shakes her head. “No, that won’t do any good. Have you called your attorney?”

  “Not yet.”

  Geronima’s sitting now. “Eat, Natasha. You need to eat something.”

  We all take her cue. She’s right. It helps to eat. I take a bite of the enchiladas with the good white Mexican cheese and chicken and tomatillo. Probably not the healthiest dinner, but it feels good to have something warm and delicious that I didn’t have to cook myself. Now I’m glad we came here, and that I told them. It feels good to be listened to—to be nurtured like this.

  After several bites, Geronima says, “I still don’t understand. What did he say in the papers? How could he say that you’re a bad mom?”

  I try to explain. “He says I’ve been neglecting the kids. That Alex isn’t learning enough in school and that I didn’t do anything about his accident—you remember.” They all nod, because I’ve already told them the st
ory. “And he says…I don’t know what. That I yell at them, or in front of them. That I say curse words. That Lucia’s tennis shoes are getting too old and I haven’t bought her new ones.” I can’t remember anything else from the list. It all sounds ridiculous now that I’m saying it out loud.

  “That’s so stupid,” Sara says. “Is he for real? I know chicks who do way worse stuff than that. Shit, I do worse stuff than that.”

  Now I have to laugh a little. I can’t help myself.

  Haley says, “This isn’t going to be a problem. Mike’s just blowing off steam, obviously. Once you call your attorney, he’ll get the charges dismissed.”

  And now I’m not laughing. “I can’t call her. Not yet. I…” God, this is embarrassing to admit. “I owe her money, and she’s going to want a retainer before she does any more work on my case. And I don’t have enough to give her.”

  Geronima and Sara frown. Oscar shakes his head, like he’s been doing throughout our discussion. But Haley’s not buying my excuses. “She needs to take the case. You’re her client. So you have to pay her a little later—that’s fine. But you need to call her now so she can fix this.”

  I trade looks with Sara and Geronima. Eyebrows are raised. They know what it means not to have enough money. Haley can’t understand.

  I’ll have to figure this out on my own, later. It’s my problem, and I’ll be the one to solve it, one way or another.

  “You guys,” I say, “let’s talk about something else. I didn’t mean to bring everyone down with my sob story.”

  “No.” Geronima stands up and lunges toward me. Is she going to hug me again or spank me? No, she’s leaning over to pick up Oscar’s empty plate. “Natasha, don’t be silly. You’re not bringing us down. We’re your friends.” That said, she turns and carries her husband’s plate to the kitchen.

  “She’s right,” says Haley. “You don’t have to feel bad about telling us. I mean, you’ve listened to plenty of my problems in the past couple of weeks.”

  “Yeah, seriously,” says Sara. “I still think we should go out to your ex’s house and beat the crap out of him, though.”

  “I wish it were that easy,” I say.

  A child emerges from the bedroom. It’s Tiffany. “Grandma!” she bellows toward the kitchen. “Monique pushed Baby Junior, and Baby Junior’s crying!”

  “Aw, hell.” Sara stands up. “I knew they were being too quiet over there.” She takes her plate to the kitchen, then heads into Tiffany’s room, saying, “Monique! Do I need to beat your little butt?”

  Haley and I make comical grimaces at each other. By now we’re used to Sara’s gruffness with her kids. We know she won’t actually hit them. At least not for an infraction this minor.

  I need to check on Alex and Lucia. But first I should finish my food before it gets cold. Across the coffee table, Haley’s watching me. I catch her eye, and she smiles. It makes me a little uncomfortable. I’m not used to whining to people and having them feel sorry for me. I have to change the subject. “Hey, where’s Jared? I’ve been meaning to ask.”

  Now her smile disappears. “Oh, he’s at Dave’s. I dropped him off this morning.”

  “Really? So you guys aren’t doing first and third weekends?” I say.

  She sighs. “No. We’re doing our own thing. Jared really misses Dave sometimes. And his bedroom, and all his toys. So I let him go visit more often…” She stops talking. Seems sad.

  Great. Now I’ve taken the focus off my problems but made her feel crappy. I say, “Well, that’s good, right? That you and Dave can make compromises like that, for Jared’s sake.” She nods, but doesn’t look as if she agrees.

  I’m about to close the door when I hear her call my name. She’s followed me back to our apartment. “Natasha, wait.”

  I have the impression that she’s doing this specifically to catch me alone, so I tell Alex and Lucia to go on in, to give me a second to talk to Jared’s mom. I close the door and stand outside it waiting for her.

  “I wanted to tell you,” she says, “but not in front of the others.” And then she pauses. The chipped sconce on the wall lights the side of her face. She smiles, and it makes her look really young. She has a chameleon face, Haley. Usually I can tell that she’s my age, but sometimes, in certain lights—or when she’s laughing—she could pass for a teenage girl, with her pale hair and impossibly slim hips. How did she stay so thin after Jared? Some women just do, I guess.

  “What is it?” I finally say. “Tell me.” I hope it isn’t something bad. Some sad secret. Not that I don’t want to be supportive, but I have a lot on my plate at the moment.

  “I wanted to tell you…I can give you the money. For your lawyer.”

  What? No. She isn’t. Oh, my gosh. It’s happening again—I’m going to cry.

  “Natasha, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” I wipe my nose with the back of my hand, and it makes a noise, even though I’m trying to be ladylike. “Haley, you don’t have to do that.”

  “I know I don’t have to. But I want to. Please let me.”

  Are people always this nice to virtual strangers? Have I simply never noticed before? I say, “I can’t let you. You barely know me.”

  “I do know you, though. You’re my neighbor. Our kids play together. You’re…” She takes a moment to think of the words. “You’ve been helping to keep me sane since I left Dave. It means a lot to me, to be able to have people like you and Sara to talk to. Maybe you’re used to having tons of awesome, supportive friends just lying around since you left your husband…” We both have to laugh at that. “But whatever. The thing is, I have plenty of money, so it doesn’t make a difference to me. Please take it. Consider it a loan, and if it makes you feel better about it, you can promise to pay me back someday.”

  I don’t say anything. I can’t.

  She says, “I’m not going to leave until you tell me yes.” She pulls her purse from her shoulder, mock threateningly.

  I feel like I’m falling. The way they show people falling out of buildings, into trampolines being held by circles of firemen? That’s me right now. Is this how it feels to rely on other people? I’m afraid yet exhilarated. Hopeful yet slightly panicked. And it’s hard to say whether my feelings are normal, because I haven’t been able to rely on anyone like this in a long, long time.

  Natasha

  He said what? That’s ridiculous.” That’s Joanne, exactly the way I expected she’d react: as the calm voice of righteous indignation. I’m on the phone with her, in the hall outside the dentist’s office while the kids are getting their teeth cleaned. Just hearing her use that word—“ridiculous”—makes me feel better about the whole thing. She’s the lawyer here, isn’t she? Therefore I have an official legal opinion stating that Mike’s being an idiot.

  “Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. Fax me the whole thing, and I’ll take a look. Don’t worry about the hearing…You said November eighteenth, right? Great, right before Thanksgiving. But that’s okay. I’ll go to the hearing without you. I can tell you right now that the judge is going to order mediation, first thing.”

  “Really?” I say. I was picturing a big, dramatic court scene in which I have to take the stand and defend myself against Mike’s allegations. I was already worried about what to wear.

  Joanne says, “Yes. You know how this judge hates to sit there and listen to bickering. But we won’t be able to schedule a mediator until after the holidays. You know what? I’m going to see if we can get Susan Graham. She wasn’t available when you got divorced, but I think she’s back in town now. She’s the best, especially for cases like this. With any luck, whoever they assign will talk Mike into dropping the suit. This happens all the time. The men get upset over something petty and decide they want custody, but then they calm down and get over it. Let me guess—did you start dating again? Did he find out about it?”

  “No, not really.” I don’t count the one incident with Hector as dating. And Mike doesn’t know about that a
nyway. There’s no use explaining to Joanne—reminding her—that Mike’s already dating again himself. Like she said, he’s probably upset about something petty. I’d guess it’s because I embarrassed Missy at Alex’s school, in front of the nurse and the secretary. And because I’ve been avoiding his phone calls since then. Too bad. Like Joanne says, he’ll have to get over it.

  The door to the dentist’s office opens, and the hygienist emerges. She beckons me. Oh, no. Not a cavity, I hope. I hold up a finger to let her know I need a minute, and she disappears. I say to Joanne, “So is that all? Just wait for mediation?”

  “Yes. Well, no. Natasha, before I continue with this case, there’s the matter of my retainer.”

  “I know,” I say.

  “And I believe you still have a balance…”

  “I know. I’m going to pay that. I can write you a check today.” Now that Haley’s check has cleared, I can.

  “No, I know you’re good for it,” she says. “I’ll send you a bill when we’re done.”

  Good old Joanne. So trusting. And so successful and rich, presumably, that she can afford to bill me later. But I wouldn’t have felt comfortable calling her when I didn’t have the money to pay in full.

  Time to talk to the dentist now, and see what else I’m going to end up paying for. But I feel a lot better than I have since receiving the summons. If Joanne says it’s going to be fine, I believe her.

  After we get out of here, I should call Haley and Sara. I want to get together with them tonight, so I can tell them the good news.

  Sara

  I bet you’re wondering why I came here.

  Yeah, you are. I could go talk to anybody. But you’re the one who knows everything that happened with Natasha and her ex and their kids. So you already know that I’m a liar and a bad mom. But I came to see you on purpose. I want to tell you my side of the story.